In the Shadow of Gotham - By Stefanie Pintoff Page 0,61
an important rally tonight held by the Municipal Owner’s League,” said Horace, his voice clipped and hurried.
“Who?” I asked.
“The independent party Hearst founded.” Horace was appalled I hadn’t remembered. “tonight’s rally is meant to show that reform-minded people won’t be intimidated by Tammany.”
“I haven’t had much time to follow the election news given the investigation,” I said to placate him. “But I saw the headlines around town. Everyone seems to agree Tuesday’s contest was crooked.”
It was true. Even William Randolph Hearst’s archenemies supported him. Hearst, as owner of the Journal, was neither liked nor particularly respected among his competitors. But his main rival, the World, and even the conservative Sun conceded Hearst had grounds to contest the official vote tally.
“Blatant thievery is what it was!” Horace was indignant. “You saw what happened to me Tuesday.” He gestured to his purple bruise. “It was even worse for working-class voters downtown. I can’t believe there’s even a chance that cheat McClellan may stay in office.” He practically spat as he spoke.
Seeking more congenial ground, I ventured, “Is your fiancée also involved with tonight’s rally? I believe Isabella mentioned you were to be married next summer.”
But I had asked the wrong question. Angry and hurt, Horace explained his fiancée had recently broken off their engagement.
I cast about for a different topic, for Horace’s agitation was becoming stronger the more we talked along these lines.
“How long have you been helping Alistair with his research?” I asked.
“Almost seven years. I was here as an undergraduate, too, and my biology advisor briefly partnered with Professor Sinclair. He dropped his association a couple years ago, but I stayed on. The work satisfies my fellowship obligation without my having to teach.”
Recalling my own days in college, I could well imagine why Horace preferred to avoid the classroom. With his unkempt appearance and nasal voice, he would have been disrespected; the typical student would have made his classroom a misery.
“It has been an education working for Professor Sinclair. Sometimes I learn more than I want. You see, when the professor gets caught up in his own research, he can forget about what’s most important.”
I assumed he meant Alistair forgot important things like eating lunch. Good-naturedly I replied, “But he has Mrs. Leab on his staff to make sure none of you forget to eat.”
Then I looked and saw Horace was serious.
“No,” he said, “I’ve learned things that trouble my conscience and keep me from sleeping at night.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I can see why learning too much about criminals like Fromley would give you nightmares.”
“Well, the professor himself—” Horace stopped himself.
But he had piqued my interest more than I would have liked to admit.
I baited him, hoping he would say more. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Ridiculous to think Alistair could be responsible for giving anyone bad dreams.” I managed to sound amused, which had the effect I intended: He grew frustrated that I had misunderstood him.
“That’s not what I meant. The professor himself is responsible.” He withdrew again. “But I shouldn’t say too much. It’s not my place, and he’s been good to me. Generous with recommendations and assignments, and a couple times he’s helped me out of a real jam.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking steadfastly at the sidewalk below us.
I tried a firmer approach to encourage him. “Alistair is helping me with an important murder investigation. If there is anything you think I should know, I’d say it’s your duty to tell me.”
“Well—” He was reluctant, but after another moment, he began talking. Horace was concerned about Alistair’s methods as they related to larger political goals. He was bothered, apparently, that Alistair would use his learning to “let criminals go free.” While that was not what I understood to be within Alistair’s concept of rehabilitation, Horace was adamant in his belief.
“He takes his research to court and testifies about the criminal as a person. He describes the defendant’s background, outlines why he behaves as he does, and interprets what that behavior means. He predicts the criminal’s entire career path, whether he will become a habitual offender or can be rehabilitated. And in the professor’s view, they all can be rehabilitated. He talks in circles until the judge and jury have entirely forgotten about whatever heinous act brought the defendant to trial in the first place. And if that doesn’t work,” he continued, sounding pained, “he resorts to other, less traditional methods. Believe me, there’s nothing the professor will not do to advance his own research.”